


Tight Jeans, Torn Hearts and Twang: The Sousuke Yamazaki Story

by ChampagneSly



Category: Free!
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke is a country music star with a past--busted shoulder, shattered dreams and broken-hearts. While it all makes good fodder for top twenty songs, Sousuke's not really prepared for the whole thing with "the one who got away" to come back and bite him in the ass.</p><p>(Even if deep down, he wouldn't mind the strangely shaped teeth marks).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is 95% ridiculous, 5% romance, 100% inspired by Sousuke's delightfully twangy character music.

There were many things that had sucked in Sousuke’s life, but exiting stage left with his trusty guitar to the sound of ten thousand screaming fans definitely wasn’t one of them. Sure, those same fans could get a little annoying, what with the clinging and the rifling through his trash to build Sousuke shrines in their bedroom, but most of the time Sousuke found it hard to feel anything but appreciation for the people who found something meaningful in his angsty riffs about busted shoulders, shattered dreams and the one who got away.

Somehow, being beloved by the masses made being brokenhearted just a little bit easier to bear.

The noise followed him down the narrow backstage halls of backstage; his cowboy boots floating on a sea of adulation until he was finally alone in the relative quiet, breathing deep and yearning for that cup of hot lemon tea that would ensure his soulful twang in lasted until his first world tour was over and he could finally get back home to his dogs.

The bliss of solitude lasted for an entire thirty seconds before his resident stalker-in-chief found him skulking in the shadows. His stalker-cum-manager announced his presence the same way he did everything else (loudly and with unnecessary enthusiasm), coming at him with his arm outstretched for a high-five and a shouted: 

“There you are!!!”

In classic cowboy fashion, Sousuke responded by glaring and scuffing his boot threateningly against the wall.

Seriously, even though he paid the guy to keep track of his life and cater to his every whim, there were still times when a man just really wanted to be left alone. Especially a surly but sexy country music star like Sousuke, who needed quality solo time to appropriately brood on the wrongs life had done him and subsequently write wrenching songs about those people who you thought were gonna love forever but then took off for greener pastures like they were the villain of circa 2009 Taylor Swift songs.  

Unfortunately for Sousuke and his bittersweet memories,  Momotarou "Momo" Mikoshiba had never quite seemed to grasp this concept, no matter how many doors Sousuke had closed in his face during their 6 months on the road. Sousuke supposed it was his own damned fault for letting the kid hang around after he'd shown up at the recording studio with a six-pack of beer, an iPod full of Sousuke’s early songs, and an earnestness that reminded Sousuke just enough of someone he’d known once upon a time to make him sentimental and accommodating.

When Sousuke got over his beer and melancholy hangover, (later to become the name of one of the bigger hits on his latest album, “ _A Shoulder to Cry On_ ”), the kid seemed more annoying and less endearing...but as it turned out he had an uncanny ability to cheerfully, relentlessly persuade club promoters into booking Sousuke for gigs, so Sousuke let him stick around.

Even if he was a pain in Sousuke’s well-toned ass.

“Here I am.” Sousuke turned his favorite guitar pick over his knuckles and looked pointedly in the other direction. “And there’s where you should go.”  

Momo ignored him, careening way too far into Sousuke’s personal space, all smiles and useless information. “Wow! Wow! You really nailed it out there! The crowd was L.O.V.I.N.G it.”

“You say that after every show.” Resigning himself to his fate, Sousuke pushed his guitar into Momo’s flailing arms to keep him from getting any closer. Momo cradled it lovingly. Sousuke considered taking it back because no one cuddled his guitar like that but him, but he figured the sooner he got his nightly ' _you’re the greatest'_ pep-talk over with, the sooner he could take off his too tight jeans and drink beer in the dark. Alone. “What do you want?”

“No! Really! I mean it, I thought all the crowd was going to spontaneously combust when you sang “ _I Wanna Pool You Over_ ,” all slow and sexy!” Momo plucked out a few chords and smiled way too brightly for Sousuke’s taste. “Didn’t I tell you that doing it acoustic style would be the best idea ever? Man, I’m awesome!”

“Yeah it was alright, I guess,” Sousuke said reluctantly, long having been wary of doing more than damning Momo with faint praise.

“C’mon!” Momo pouted, setting Sousuke’s guitar against the wall so he could once again have the freedom to get all up in Sousuke’s grill. “C’mon! It was the best! You know it was! All those ladies losing their minds because Momo-nator the Women Slayer knows what the girlies---

“OK, fine, it was the best,” Sousuke interrupted, afraid that he might puke on his boots if he had to hear another word of Momo’s delusions of lady-killing grandeur. Momo beamed. Sousuke scowled. “Jesus. Now will you fuck off?”

And yet, because Sousuke's live was a tragic one, full of regret and not getting what he wanted most, Momo lingered, entirely unmoved by Sousuke’s request. “Don’t worry, boss, soon enough I’ll leave you alone to weep into your Jack Daniels about the redhead who broke your--

Sousuke was startled enough to stumble out of his cool yet disaffected pose, “How the hell did you know--” 

“Know that they were a redhead?” Momo leered knowingly, poking Sousuke’s cheek with his finger because he lacked any apparent survival instinct. “Please. The first three songs on your debut album were called _Black Nights and Crimson Regrets_ , _Even Beer Can’t Wash Out the Red_ , and _Burn Me Up With That Fire Hot Look_.”

Well, Sousuke thought, when Momo put it like that...maybe his fixation was kind of obvious. On the other hand, Sousuke comforted himself, maybe he just liked the color red. In general. Not necessarily red hair or red lips or Ri--

Sousuke decided to go with the lie, because he was the boss and it was Momo's job to take him at his word. “Total coincidence.” 

“Riiiiiiiiight,” Momo said, clasping the shoulder that had been the cause of all of Sousuke’s biggest miseries--

( _All of the biggest miseries except the one that Sousuke never talked about and definitely never thought about because what point was there in thinking about someone who clearly hadn't thought much of him, what with the packing up his bags and---)_

“--so will you do it?”

“Huh?” Sousuke came back to himself with a start, horrified to find that Momo making expectant puppy dogs puppy dog eyes at him. Sousuke shivered, shaking off memories that were best saved for writing country-pop hits that were going to make him millions of dollars. “Do what?”

“Sheesh, were you even listening?”

“No.” Sousuke thoughtfully rubbed his stubbled chin. “But then I never do when it comes to you.”

“You’re the worst, boss,” Momo grumbled, enthusiasm dampening  for a nanosecond before another smile exploded all over his face. “As I was saying, there’s this really great reporter who wants to get an exclusive interview---”

Sousuke sighed. “I hate interviews. Same stupid questions over and over again. If I have to smile and explain why I named my dog “Shark” one more time I’m going to blow a gasket. Or another shoulder.”

“I know, I know. Buuuuut, I think you’ll like this one,” Momo cajoled, “I grilled her hard about why she wants this interview and I’m convinced! She really wants to dig deep, ask the unexpected and explore what makes Sousuke Yamazaki tick!”

Sousuke rolled his eyes. “Oh? And is ' _she'_   by any chance also really hot?”

“Totally,” Momo said, unrepentant and shameless as ever, “But she’s also got the portfolio to back it up. She emailed me some of her stuff when she was making the ask and it really was great.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, thanks,” Sousuke pushed back, having being burned more than once by Momo’s weakness for people who smiled pretty and then asked for favors, “What’s her name? I’ll look her up and let you know.”

Momo pouted but gave up the goods, “She actually said she knew you a little, from a long time ago. Her name’s Gou Matsuoka. Though she’s sometimes listed under Kou--”

“I’ll do it,” Sousuke said in rush, pulse already thrumming along at 180 beats per minute. “Set it up.”

“Oooookay,” Momo said warily, for once the one who had to back away from an inexplicably excited crazy person. “Not that I’m not down for this sudden change of heart but….what gives?”

Sousuke took a deep breath and then another, trying to reign himself in before he did something desperately uncool like bare his bruised soul to Momo. When he picked up his guitar his fingers shook but his voice did not. “Nothing gives. I want to do the interview and you want to impress this Gou person so why don’t you just do what I tell you for once. 

Momo’s curiosity waged war with his self-interest, but in the end, his desire to try and get the girl won out. “Whatever you say, bro!” He threw Sousuke lame thumbs up. “Leave it to Momo to make the magic happen.”

“Just go do it,” Sousuke said, turning on his heel and fleeing in the direction of his dressing room, more desperate than ever to be left alone with his thoughts.

More than anything, Sousuke needed put on a little Patsy Cline and get a little drunk so he could try to recover from the shock of _Matsuoka_ ringing in his ears for the first time in years and even if it had come with _Gou_ instead of _Rin_ \--

With the slam of the dressing room door, Sousuke cut off the echoing memory of that name. He slammed it so hard his shoulder ached with old anger and remembered hurt, which just figured, because he'd always been a glutton for self-inflicted punishment. He collapsed onto a battered couch, tossed aside the Stetson that Momo had insisted really completed the whole “urban cowboy” look, and closed his eyes until the world stopped spinning and he started wondering why the hell he’d been so quick to agree to the damned interview.

It was going to be okay, he told himself. It was going to be more than okay. He was going to look Gou Matsuoka in the eye and answer her every question until he got the chance to ask a few of his own. He’d get the answers he’d been needing for years and it wouldn’t cost him anything more than his time.

And later, when he reached for his guitar to write another bittersweet song about drinking soda under cherry trees, Sousuke plucked a few twangy chords and swore that it wouldn’t be a problem that Gou Matsuoka was the spitting image of her brother.

No, Sousuke thought, it wouldn’t bother him none at all.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gou's interview gets a little personal....Sousuke tries not to die inside. 
> 
> Being stoic is hard work when you're a country music star.

**Tight Jeans, Torn Hearts and Twang: The Sousuke Yamazaki Story**

by: Gou Matsuoka

_With a reputation for being as broody and unapproachable as he is down-home soulful, I wasn’t sure what to expect when Sousuke Yamazaki joined me for a round of drinks at a no-name bar on the outskirts of the latest stop on his first world tour. As country music’s latest hot commodity, everyone wants to get to know the new kid on the block, but Yamazaki has proved remarkably hard to pin down by fans and journalists alike, leaving us all wanting to know more about this up and comer with a voice that country superstar Carrie Underwood described as “smoke and whiskey on ice.”_

_I’d met Yamazaki once or twice, several years ago, in his previous incarnation of Olympic swimming hopeful, before a shoulder injury permanently sidelined. Though I doubted he’d remember the younger sister of one of his many teammates, whose only conversational contributions at the time were rushed compliments on the perfection of his muscles, I was thrilled to have the chance to meet him again. After having had this fleeting glimpse into a past that looks so different from Yamazaki’s present, I was curious to see what it was like to go from chasing gold medals to gold records._

_So it was with a great deal of anticipation (and no teeny-tiny amount of trepidation) that I ventured into uncharted waters with CMT’s mysterious golden boy._

_And into uncharted waters did we go! Once Yamazaki arrived, dressed in the classic good ol’ boy combo of tight blue jeans, even tighter black t-shirt and faded baseball cap, our conversation held over the local microbrew and a plate of onion rings was everything and nothing I’d imagined it to be._

_It was, in a word, intense. And revealing._

_For all the rumors of Yamazaki’s aloofness and reluctance to play nice with the media, he answered every single one of my questions, surprisingly open and generous in talking about his past and his dreams for the future. And when it was all said and done, country music’s loneliest lonestar gave me tickets to his next show._

~~

It was only the fact that he was already running ten minutes late that stopped Sousuke from shaming himself and his ancestors and asking Momo whether or not the outfit he’d been agonizing over for the past hour “looked good.”  It wasn’t as if he actually valued Momo’s sartorial opinions, it was just that he wasn’t sure what the appropriate attire was when one was meeting the journalist little sister of the the person who one loved the most but who had also shattered one’s heart into a million achy-breaky pieces.

He told himself that appearances were important, that he needed to look good but also somehow cool and effortless, and definitely not like someone who had an ulterior motive for so readily accepting an interview request from _Men’s Muscles_ magazine.

And when Momo knocked on his hotel room door for the fifth time and whined loudly about how rude it was to make pretty women wait and Sousuke subsequently tripped gracelessly over six pairs of blue jeans that looked exactly the same, he began to suspect that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely prepared to see another Matsuoka.

Sousuke closed his eyes and prayed to Garth that he’d make it through without giving everything away, without telling the whole sad story about how he’d once loved and lost and then gotten lost until he found his way back through country music.

But just like any good hero from any good country song, when he walked into the bar and saw her standing there, Sousuke damn near lost his mind.

~~

“Thanks for the beer, and for taking the time to meet with me. I know interviews aren’t really your favorite,” Gou Matsuoka said, smiling sweetly and offering her hand, kindly glossing over the fact that Sousuke was twenty minutes late and couldn’t stop staring at her like a loon.

Her grip was surprisingly strong, squeezing Sousuke’s embarrassingly sweaty palm within an inch of it's life. Along with her hidden super-strength, Gou was undeniably beautiful, with her long red hair, soft features, and beautiful eyes that were a shade too familiar for Sousuke’s comfort.   

Sousuke sat down across the table, pulled his hand back before he could do something insanely creepy like touch her hair just to see if it was as soft as _his_ and grunted “you’re welcome,” into his bottle of Blue Moon.

Gou touched a hand to her cheek, looked at Sousuke questioningly, “I’m sorry, but do I have something on my face?”

Sousuke choked on his beer, spluttering in a way that was pretty much the opposite of mysterious and cool. Gou yelped and handed him a napkin, and as Sousuke tried to cough the beer from his lungs, he scrambled to find a better excuse for burning holes in the poor woman’s face than, “God, you look so much like him.”

Sousuke wiped his chin, shook his head and muttered, “No, no, it’s just you look….familiar.”

Gou’s clouded expression broke over a sunny smile. “Ah! That makes sense! We met once a few years ago. At a swim meet.”

“Did we?”  Sousuke looked away, sparing himself the sight of a happy Matsuoka.

“Mmhmm, you were on the same college swim team as my brother,” Gou’s voice softened, “At least for a little while. Maybe you remember him? He swam free...”

Sousuke didn’t make a sound, didn’t breathe, didn’t move, waiting for Gou’s inevitable, “Rin Matsuoka?”

Sousuke kept his hands wrapped around his bottle, took another swig to wash away memories of kisses that tasted like chlorine, and said, “Rin? I think remember him. Yeah, we swam a relay or two together, before my shoulder busted. I only lasted about six months.”

 _‘In more ways than one,_ ’ Sousuke thought bitterly, never quite sure how the best time of his life ended up making him so miserable (if also a certified gold country singer-songwriter).

Once upon a time it had been early morning practices instead of late afternoon sound-checks, Speedo's instead of Stetsons, Gatorade instead of Budweiser, and there had been a team, and a them and now there was just him---him and his guitar and his memories.

Sousuke put the beer down, finally faced Gou head-on and told a strange version of the truth, “But I haven’t seen him in years.”

Gou smiled, “Oh, well, he’s been busy! Competitions, traveling, training for the Olympics, doing endorsement deals. I swear, I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen him! I hardly know where he is at any given time.”

Sousuke desperately and simultaneously did and did not want to ask if Rin was happy with all his success; he wanted to know but also not know if Rin knew Sousuke still existed and sung songs about him every night to thousands of people. He wasn’t sure he could handle hearing _yes_ or _no_. To either question. Or both.

So in the end, already exhausted before he could even begin, with all the courage he’d drained from a bottle of Jack the night before suddenly gone, Sousuke could only manage a murmured,  “Glad to hear it.”

“Me too,” Gou laughed and dug her phone out of her bag, blissfully ignorant of Sousuke’s suffering, because even after everything, Sousuke still liked to play the strong, silent type. She pushed the phone between them, tapped a manicured nail on the little red button for record.  “Anywho! You’ve been busy, yourself! You’re a hard man to pin down, you know. Between the recording studio and two consecutive tours, you've become quite the elusive new superstar.”

Sousuke blinked, so caught up in thoughts of Rin that he’d managed to forget that he was really there. He rubbed his shoulder in the hopes that a twinge of pain would serve as reminder that he was supposed to be a goddamned adult with a burgeoning music career that needed promotion, not some lovesick fool with a useless crush on the hottest guy in school.  

He tried for a smile, “Not sure I’m at superstar level just yet.”

“I see you don’t dispute the elusive part.”

Sousuke dug his thumb into the place that always hurt the most. “I guess I’ve always been a bit of a loner.”

“How so?” Gou started scribbling notes in a tiny, well-worn book.

Sousuke stopped abusing his shoulder, resigning himself to giving Gou as decent an interview as possible, figuring that he shouldn’t make more of an ass out of himself than he already had.  

“I was always kind of quiet, in school...and you know, swimming, it’s sort of an individual sport, even when I was on a team, I always felt like I was racing for myself...except for those relays in college, those were something special, but after my shoulder and after R--” Sousuke swallowed, started picking at the label on his half-drunk beer, and sighed, “Everything was different. And now, it’s just me up there, singing my songs.”

Gou tapped her pencil against her chin, considered him with those pretty Matsuoka eyes. “Do you miss it?”

“Swimming?” Sousuke asked, the answer already on the tip of his tongue before Gou finished nodding. “Of course. It was my big dream. I was really good and it gave me a lot of wonderful experiences, brought a lot of wonderful people into my life.”

He closed his eyes and remembered the thrill of watching Rin’s fingertips hit the wall, remembered how Rin had felt within in arms as they’d celebrated their first big win as a team. He remembered the expression on  Rin’s face when Sousuke showed him the MRI that was going to ruin life as he knew it.

“And then suddenly it was all over. Just like that. And I had no one but myself to blame. I’d worked too hard in all the wrong ways and my shoulder couldn’t be fixed. No more swim team...no more swimming.”

 _‘And three weeks later, no Rin,_ ’ Sousuke didn’t say, because there were some things he could only say in a very sad song; the kind of song that everyone could understand, about a lost love that could have been anyone at all, not just the team captain who couldn’t stand that his dreams were coming true as Sousuke’s were falling apart.

Gou touched his wrist, “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating.”

Sousuke bit his lip and shrugged, “It was. I was lost. Truly, really, lost.” Sousuke laughed wryly, “And I also mean that literally. I didn’t know what to do without swimming, so I left school, threw away my goggles, bought a used guitar, drained my savings account and just started traveling aimlessly, figuring anything was better than sticking around to watch everyone move on without me.”

“Where did you go?”

Sousuke hesitated, preferring not to dwell on those days filled with aimless anger and regret--no matter that those nights spent with cheap liquor and nameless lovers had later become material for some of his best songs, including his recent chart-topper, _Cardboard Lovers Can't Handle the Rain_.

Sousuke titled his chair back, looked at the ceiling and said, “Nowhere important. Nowhere special, just places I thought I could forget. You know how it is.”

“So how’d you find your way to Nashville? To country music?”

Relieved to be off that particular hook, Sousuke let the chair fall back into place and smiled, “Somewhere along that rambling road, I started writing. First about places I’d been, people I’d met, and then later, when I could stand the way it hurt just enough to make it good, I wrote about all the things that had happened.”

“And then all those words turned into songs?”

Sousuke cupped his chin in his palm and smirked, “How’d you know?”

“Could be a lucky guess.” Gou’s smile was bright like sunshine after days of rain. “Or maybe it’s because you sing songs that sound like diary entries.”

“They do not,” Sousuke protested, going flush beneath the v-neck collar of his best black t-shirt.

“Trust me, they do. All those lyrics about sweet summer days and broken-hearted nights read like some of the best romance novels out there.”

Sousuke opened his mouth and promptly closed it again, unable to say a damned word in his own defense.

Gou eyed him knowingly and provedthat Rin wasn’t the only Matsuoka with sass, “With looks like yours and lyrics like,   _‘You were a shot of sweet in my coffee black soul, but now you’re gone and all I am is bitter and burned,’_ it’s no wonder you’ve got the country music world swooning.”

The flush fled from his neck to his cheeks. Sousuke vigorously rubbed his face made a note to murder Momo for getting him into this mess.

“Uh, well, I’ve never kept a diary....but I guess song-writing is it’s own form of catharsis. I suppose that’s why I’ve always been drawn to country.”

“Want to elaborate on that?” Gou’s pencil was moving furiously across her notebook, clearly spelling out Sousuke’s doom.

Sousuke sighed, figuring that as this point he might as well go out in a blaze of glory. “I don’t know how to explain, exactly. But there’s this sort of...emotional honesty, I guess, in country music, that I’ve always appreciated.”

Sousuke paused, even though Gou was hanging on his every word. He couldn’t help but think of all the things he’d never been able to say without a backing track, too scared to be the one that felt out loud, too wary of risking it all until it was too late and all he had left were three cigarettes in an ashtray and the lovesick blues.*  

“You know, I’ve never really talked about it this way,” Sousuke said slowly, rolling the  now naked bottle between his fingers, “People rag on the earnestness of country music…but I think deep down we all wish we had a way to express the simple things that make us the happiest in life. Or the saddest.”

“Like love?”

Sousuke met Gou’s gaze, a gaze that reminded him of another he’d once (still) held so dear, and said, “Yeah. Like love.”

“Well,” Gou murmured, expression gone soft and a little dreamy. “I think I speak for many of your fans when I say that you do it very well. You really capture that feeling of nostalgia, of yearning for better days and the sweetness of hope that sometimes comes with the bitterness of loss.”

Sousuke looked at her across the table and hoped that one day he’d have a chance to write a song about the firebrand girl with a pen in her hand and questions in her heart.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Gou smiled at him and put her pencil down.

Sousuke breathed a sigh of relief, “Did you get what you needed?”

“More than enough." Gou tossed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head, clearly all too aware of Sousuke's skepticism. "No, no! you were great, really!” She laughed and reached for her phone, pressing stop and setting Sousuke free. “Thanks for being so forthcoming. I hope it wasn’t too painful...”

 _Excruciating,_ Sousuke thought, _but not because of you_.

“A little, but it was worth it,” Sousuke said, almost meaning everything he said, “Sometimes it’s good to dig deep and show people what’s really going on underneath the country-star persona.” He shuddered and rolled his eyes, “Or so my manager keeps telling me. Over and over again.”

Gou’s giggle was sudden, genuine and warm in way that brightened the air around her, just like it had always been every time Rin had smiled.

“Well, I’m glad he did. And I’m glad you agreed, even if only for thirty minutes.”

Gou held out her hand in farewell. Sousuke resisted the urge to plant a kiss on her knuckles as he slipped his palm against hers, “And I’m glad, too.”  

Gou pulled her hand away, started to walk towards the door and suddenly Sousuke started to panic, as if the curtains were coming down on his last song and there wasn’t gonna be any encore if he didn’t say something, do anything-

“Gou!” Sousuke said in a rush, and as she turned to him, the words bubbled out before he could question whether it was the right thing to do. “Next time you see your brother, tell him I said hello, okay?”

“Of course,” Gou said easily, because such a request probably sounded like nothing at all, like it hadn’t cost Sousuke more than politeness.

“Thanks,” Sousuke managed to choke out before draining what remained of his beer, drowning doubt with nice malty hops.

Gou smiled at him one more time, her fingers already splayed on the exit door as she said, “Hey, Sousuke, while sad songs are all well and good, I hope one day you’ll get to sing about love come home.”

Sousuke slumped over his barstool and watched her go, his heart hammering a beat that sounded an awful lot like, “I hope so, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat dripped down the long curve of Sousuke’s spine as he pushed up and down, up and down, up and down, breath rushing from his lungs with each purposeful thrust of his body.  The music thundered in time with his heart, a fast country beat that made him want to go a little bit harder, a little bit longer and really get into that steady, almost punishing groove that made his skin taut and his muscles scream. It was good, always so good and it was just what he needed, even if his shoulder protested the rough treatment, and Sousuke thought he could have gone on all night moving his body felt like it’d lived through a hot, sticky summer night, drenched and trembling on the edge of too much, and, yeah, he’d welcome it, because doing this sort of thing was as familiar as breathing.

Sousuke needed it. Needed the build-up and the release to give him the peace of mind to make it through another day. Needed it to wash away his all his pent-up frustration, all of his meaningless feelings and well-worn sorrows, in way that not even song-writing or bourbon could do.

Because when he was doing this, he didn’t think of the screaming crowds that were waiting for him to take the stage, or the bedside drawer full of unfinished songs, or the taste of kisses better off forgotten. Then and there, with his eyes closed and his music on, it was easy to feel nothing but the simple pleasure of exertion, of pushing himself until he couldn’t take it any more.

Sousuke another breath, sucked air into lungs that burned, turned up the Miranda and got ready to dip into another set of fifty push-ups.

He was half-way through #17 and just getting into being the fastest girl in town (ain’t no use in trying to slow *him* down) when his earbuds were rudely ripped out and Momo was crouching in front of him, poking at his biceps.

“Whatcha doin?” Poke-poke. Sousuke gritted his teeth and tried to push down into #18.  Momo smiled at him. #19. Poke-poke. #20, #21, and then, the unbearable. “Gettin’ swoll?”

“Enough already.” Sousuke collapsed onto the dressing room floor and rolled away from Momo’s grabby hands, worried that if he kept at it any longer, he’d catch Momo’s special brand of stupid. “What the hell do you want?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Momo said, not sounding sorry at all as he blatantly checked out Sousuke’s naked chest, “I know how you feel about your very special pre-show you time--”

“Don’t say it like that, you idiot,” Sousuke complained, reaching for a towel to mop his face. “It’s my routine. Gets me in the zone." Sousuke kicked himself for saying the words 'in the zone,' but it was true. He liked feeling a little flushed and worked up before performing, liked going out there feeling like he'd been under the heat of the spotlights for hours. "It gets me get warmed up for the crowd.”    

Momo patted Sousuke’s thigh and shook his head. “Say no more. The Momonator understands completely.”

The extremely amused tilt of Momo’s not-very-innocent smile lead Sousuke to believe that maybe, just maybe, doing 200 push-ups was kind of a lame (and not at all rock star) way of getting pumped to go out on stage to break hearts and explode ovaries.

Sousuke told himself that his relative lack of cool in this one instance didn’t matter because tickets to his gun show didn’t come for free. Looking magazine-cover good wasn’t exactly easy. Holding firm to his resolve, Sousuke gave Momo the evil eye over the frayed edge of his old Samezuka Swim Team towel.

“What, precisely, do you think you understand?”

“That you suffer from performance anxiety.”

Sousuke threw the sweat-rag at Momo’s face. “I will kill you.”  Momo laughed as he dodged, the towel sailing over his shoulder to land on Sousuke’s precious guitar. Sousuke lunged. “I really will kill you.”

“Better do it fast! Curtain’s up in twenty!”

“In that case, maybe I’ll just wait.” Sousuke smiled cruelly, flicking Momo’s forehead as he pushed up to his feet with a groan. “After all, it’s the last show of the tour,” he mused, wandering off in search of a clean black t-shirt and his lucky belt buckle--the one with the cherry blossom pattern cut into sterling silver that always reminded him a little bit of home. “Once this is over, what use do I have for you anyway?”

“Rude,” Momo sniffed, attempting to pierce Sousuke’s cold heart with his best puppy-dog eyes. “You don’t know how much I do for you! No idea how hard I work all for the greater Yamazaki glory!”

“Yeah, it must be so hard being you.” Sousuke dropped his gym shorts and reached for his jeans, hoping that he could get them up over his thighs this one last time.

“It is!” Momo insisted as he rifled through Sousuke’s bag and held up two different baseball hats, offering them up for Sousuke’s consideration. “Just today I had to fight off another one of your stalkers!”

“We call them fans, Momo. Isn't that what you're always telling me?” Sousuke nodded his approval for the faded red cap. He sucked in a breath and strained to zip up his pants, the fabric clinging a little too snugly to every muscled curve.  “Extremely enthusiastic fans.”

“Hah! I’m not so sure this guy was much of a fan, boss.” Momo spun the baseball hat on his finger. “He was way way scarier than our regular overzealous fanboy.”

“Yeah? How so?” Sousuke asked, curious despite his better judgement.

“First, he was sort talking to your magazine cover--you remember, the one you did with Gou--where you’re all wet and looking hot and broody?”

Sousuke pulled the t-shirt over his head, muffling his, “How could I forget?”   

“Yeah, so anyway, I catch this dude trying to sneak backstage. At first I was like, oh, it’s just another person who’s fallen victim to Sousuke’s tragic country charm, and he was totally hot, for a backstage stalker, even looked sort of familiar, so I figured I’d go check him out--

“Of course you did--”

Momo chucked a pair of socks at Sousuke’s face. “But when I get closer, I see this guy glaring holes at Gou’s magazine, gnashing his teeth like a shark and mumbling stuff like _I can’t believe this asshole_ and _I’ll tell HIM hello_.”

“That’s…..different,” Sousuke said, fingers working on the buttons of his favorite plaid.

Momo snorted, “It was hella weird! And it gets weirder. He kept on insisting that he knew you and that he had to see you, that it was really, really important--blah blah, all the usual stuff the creepers say-- but when I asked him to sing his favorite Sousuke Yamazaki song or name any of your hits--nada, zippo, nothing! Seriously, for all his bitching and moaning about knowing you so well, this dude clearly didn’t have a clue! What kind of “fan” that’s desperate enough to try to break into your dressing room doesn’t even know the words to _Pool You Over_?”

Momo threw out his hands in exasperation, as if he couldn’t believe there was someone on earth who wasn’t well-versed in the glories of Sousuke. Sousuke shrugged, because, yes, it was definitely odd, but compared to the people who regular dumpster dove outside his hotels, it barely registered as more than a blip on the weirdo-radar. He couldn’t understand why someone who appeared to loathe him would want to meet him, but he figured the situation was probably harmless enough, just some stranger with a random bone to pick.

In the end, Sousuke just slipped on his boots and checked his watch--ten minutes to showtime--and asked, “So what did you do with him?”

“Eh, I thought about giving him our usual line about buying a ticket to the concert and enjoying you from a reasonable distance just like everyone else,” Momo shrugged, pausing to give Sousuke an enthusiastic thumbs-up as Sousuke presented his final outfit for approval. “But even though this guy was way hot, he also sort of really seemed like he wanted to kick your ass and he had this crazy-intense thing going on--which, again, was kind of sexy but also scary--so I had security escort him out.”

“Good call,” Sousuke said, putting on his hat and reaching for his guitar, wondering what it was about him that seemed to attract so many hot but crazies. “Thanks for looking out.”   

“Of course!” Momo cooed, patting Sousuke’s cheek. “We can’t have anyone ruining this million dollar face. At least not for one more night.”

“Shut-it.” Sousuke glowered and bit back a smile, reluctantly touched by Momo’s good-natured idiocy. He’d never say it out loud, of course, but he knew that no matter how often he wanted to throttle him, he wouldn’t have made it this far, to the last night of his first big tour, without Momo’s abundance of energy, without his boundless enthusiasm. Sousuke took a deep breath, the buttons across his stretching to the point of breaking as he got himself ready to go out and spill his feelings on stage. “I should probably get out there.”

“Get ‘er done, boss!” Momo grinned and slapped Sousuke on the back, pushing them both towards the door. “Make it a good one!”

Sousuke shoved Momo off and squared his shoulders, abandoning the quiet of his dressing room for a concert hall that was already loud with high-pitched screams and the sound of five-thousand feet stomping in time to a recording of Sousuke’s early hit, “ _Wailin’ for You_.”

Sousuke’s heart raced and his palms went slick, like he was back on the block waiting for the starting pistol, his entire body humming with anticipation, ready to dive into the rush of the crowd’s adoration and lose himself in the music.  

  
It was show time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I promise, next chapter later today or tomorrow...the stage is set for big things to happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Rin, stage left.

Four hours later, Sousuke’s first big solo tour was over, all the songs had been sung and bows taken. His throat burned in the best sort of way, his fingertips sore and his body so exhausted not even a shower had helped sooth away the aches and pains. But it had all been worth it. The show had been his best yet, driven by the urgency Sousuke always felt when something was the last. Even though he hoped there would be more to come, he still couldn't help but feel like a third year high school student trying to capture all the fleeting sweetness of ' _one last time_ ' in the palms of hands that were always a little too slow, closing around the right opportunities a little too late. Perhaps it was because he remembered all too painfully what it was like to only realize after the fact when something had been the last--whether it was a last lap or a last kiss--that made him want to try so hard and give so much when there was no certainty of a next time.  

In the quiet after the storm, weary a bittersweet sort of satisfaction, Sousuke took comfort in the fact that his record label was already badgering him about another album. He took comfort in the idea of going home, of sleeping in his own bed and being alone with his thoughts and his guitar--no more lumpy hotel pillows, no more fans, much less Momo--just Sousuke.

“Alone,” Sousuke murmured, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to think “ _at last_ ,” his heart still too full of “ _again_ ,” as he picked up his guitar case and walked out into the stillness of night.

It was late, after signing a thousand autographs and posing for a hundred reluctant selfies--so late that the parking lot was nearly empty, leaving Sousuke with only the moon and the echo of his footsteps for company. He hummed a half-formed tune under his breath, turned over words and phrases that might one day become a song, and tried to stave-off his utter exhaustion.

And then, out of nowhere, from the shadowed corner of an abandoned parking in an unremarkable town, on the last night of Sousuke’s tour, the most beloved ghost of Sousuke’s past suddenly decided to haunt him.

It only took a single word, a solitary syllable, a clearly articulated, _“Hey!”_  to stop Sousuke dead in his tracks, to leave him clutching his guitar and peering into the darkness wondering if he’d finally just gone crazy.

Later, he’d tell himself that it was only because he had been so tired and distracted that he had failed to notice the shadowy figure leaning against his F-150 until he was standing five feet away with a lump in his throat and his ears ringing with a voice that had once been so sweetly-familiar. But in that moment, Sousuke could only peer into the darkness, his brain struggling to catch-up with what his heart knew to be true, his lips and tongue already ten steps ahead and curling around a startled, breathless:

“Rin.”

The man pushed away from Sousuke’s truck and stepped under the lone street light, and for the first time in two years, Sousuke saw Rin’s face. For a long moment, Sousuke thought it might have been a hallucination, a sleep-deprived vision he conjured into existence by the sheer force of his wanting, but Rin’s expression was too visceral and beautiful and dangerous for him to be anything but real.

Sousuke stood silent and breathless, watched as Rin opened his pretty mouth, the one Sousuke had once so loved to kiss and said, “Asshole.”

Sousuke’s guitar clattered to the pavement, collateral damage in the destruction of Sousuke’s poor, confused, little heart. In all of the reunion scenarios Sousuke had imagined--some sweet, some sexy, some sorrowful--he had never quite imagined that Rin would accost him in the middle of the night in a parking lot and call him an asshole.

More confused than he’d been since the first time he’d seen Keith Urban shirtless, Sousuke risked looking at Rin again. He looked long and hard, endured Rin’s hostile glare in the hopes of getting a clue as to what the hell was going on. It was almost cruel how good he looked. Even though Rin seemed ready to eat him alive, Sousuke still thought he was the best looking thing he'd ever seen. In spite of (or maybe because of) Rin's angry gaze, Sousuke still wanted to touch him. He knew what he wanted to do, but Sousuke wished he knew what, exactly, he was _supposed_ to do in this situation like this, when all Rin seemed to want to give him was a really, really dirty look.

Sousuke took a hesitant step forward, holding out his hand and wondering how it could be that in that moment Rin had never felt further away.  “Rin...what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?!” Rin spat, “What are YOU doing here?”

Sousuke dropped his hand like a bad habit.“ Uh, my job?”

“Oh, right, your job,” Rin said, derision dripping off every word. “Is that the one where you’re a big-time country music singer?”

“Y--yes?” Sousuke tried, uncertain whether to be annoyed or aroused by the rage Rin was throwing down. He pointed at his guitar and jerked his head in the direction of the concert venue. “I, uh, performed in there earlier tonight?”

“I know that, you jerk!”  Rin’s expression was thunderous, madder than Sousuke had ever seen.

And as Rin threw something at his head, Sousuke thought someone really should have given him a storm warning, let him know so he could prepare for what it was like to get struck by lightening. 

“What the--” His fingers caught on pages that were once glossy, but now felt wrinkled and worn, like they’d been through the wringer. In the darkness of the parking lot, Sousuke looked down and barely managed to make out his own face gazing up at him with broody self-importance from the cover of _Men’s Muscles_ magazine. Mood tipping definitively towards annoyed, Sousuke threw the magazine right back at Rin’s stupidly handsome face and said, “OK. What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? My problem?” Rin tipped his head back and laughed, a dry, rasping thing that grated on Sousuke’s already frayed nerves. He dragged his foot over poor magazine Sousuke’s face. “I’ve got a long list of problems, Souske. Where would you like me to start?”

Sousuke’s temper snapped, “How about starting with what you’re doing here, showing up out of the blue to throw shit at me in the middle of the night!”

“Oh, you know,” Rin said, all false nonchalance and hissing sarcasm, “My little sister sends me a copy of her latest article about the next big thing in country music, and I think, well, even though I could care less about country music, I’ll be a good big brother and read this at some point. But then I get to the bottom of her email, and what do you know, there’s a sweet little note telling me that Sousuke Yamazaki said _hello_ ,” Rin’s mouth twisted downwards, like the word tasted sour on his tongue, “So then I just had read every word. Because if Sousuke was saying _hello_ after all this time, it was probably something important. And it was. I mean, really fascinating stuff, Sousuke, almost unbelievable, in fact. And I thought, gee, this is something I think I need to see to believe.”

Sousuke blinked, anger draining away and leaving only more confusion in it’s wake. “You didn’t know? About me? About any of this?”

“How could I?” Rin said, glaring daggers. “I haven’t heard from you since…well, back then…and I don’t exactly have the time or the inclination to keep up with the country music scene. So, yeah, it came as a bit of a shock. To find out that the guy I used to...know...gave up his dreams, gave up on u-... gave up on _everything_ , to prance around on a stage wearing tight jeans and singing twangy songs.”

And Sousuke’s anger was back, as sudden and hot as the flush on Rin’s cheeks, a welcome distraction from the knife Rin had lodged between his ribs. _The guy he used to know._ That burned. 

“Fuck you,” Sousuke said, picking up his guitar and stalking toward his truck, refusing to yield any more ground to Rin and his pissy, heartbreaking face. “You prance aroundin spandex underwear on national TV!”

“I’m a swimmer, you asshole, that's what I'm supposed to do!”  

Sousuke pulled open the front door, chucked his guitar inside and looked Rin dead in the eye, and wished he still didn’t want to kiss him breathless. He wondered how the hell it had come to this--shouting at his ex in front of his truck. His life was a goddamned cliche.   

“And I’m a country singer, Rin, so, yeah, I wear tight jeans and I sing twangy songs. It's what am I supposed to do, whether you like it or not.” He rubbed a hand over his tired face, trying to let go of an anger and a hurt that shouldn't matter any more, not when he was just some guy someone used to know. Sousuke sighed, “Look, I’m sorry it came as such a shock to you, I’m sorry you didn’t know, but honestly, I’m not really sure why you’re so pissed.”

Rin’s laugh was bitter, but his eyes were sad as he murmured, “If you really don’t know why, then I guess you must really not care.”

For the thousandth time that night, Sousuke was thrown for a loop. He knocked his forehead against the truck’s cab, rubbed it against metal and glass until he could think again.

“Jesus, Rin, of course I care,” Sousuke said quietly, his heart heavy with all that love that had nowhere to go. “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’re so upset about some guy that you used to know changing careers.”

“…some guy that I used to know....” Rin started and stopped, as if there was more that he wanted to say but wouldn’t.  He looked up at the sky and sighed, like maybe his heart was heavy, too. “You know, that guy I used to know wouldn’t even let me come see him backstage at his show. He had his minions escort me out.”  

“YOU were the sexy creeper?” Sousuke exclaimed, no longer certain whether this whole thing made him want laugh or cry. “If I’d known--”

“What? If you’d known, you would have taken pity on me?” Rin interrupted, confusing Sousuke all over again.

“What? Taken pity on you? What are you--

Rin shook his head, cut him off with a rush of words, “Yeah, maybe you’d known it was me, you would have let me backstage, given five minutes of your precious time to the pathetic guy you left behind without a word two years ago.” Rin snorted and shook his head again, “Or maybe you wouldn’t have a done a damned thing. Because if I wasn’t important enough to you back then to deserve an explanation or even a goodbye, when you were my _everything_ \--”

“Rin.” Sousuke said, heart in his throat and blood screaming in his ears as he put his hand on Rin’s chest, touched him for the first time since that horrible summer day when he was still a swimmer and they were still in love. Rin’s fell silent, his gaze fixated on the splay of Sousuke’s fingers, his expression a strange combination of yearning and terrified. Sousuke knew that feeling. All too well.  

At that moment, in an abandoned parking lot in the middle of the night, Sousuke was terrified that this was really happening; that he was really standing in front of the man he’d loved and lost, who’d inspired an entire catalogue of sad, bittersweet, heartbreak songs--the man who had just accused him of being the one who had never cared.

“Rin,” Sousuke said once more, more seriously than he’d ever said anything in his whole life, “Did you just say that _**I**_ left _**you**_?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the rating goes up ;) We don't resolve anything, but the rating goes up. Because that's how I roll.

For an impossibly long moment, Rin said nothing, just stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes and tortured Sousuke with his silence. And then, just as Sousuke was on the verge of pressing his finger into Rin’s breastbone as if he could force the answer out of his lungs, Rin licked his lips, shook his head and muttered:

“You heard what I said.”

“No. I didn't.” Sousuke’s fingertips curled of their own volition, digging to Rin’s embarrassingly low-cut v-neck. “Because I can’t possibly have heard what I thought I heard.”

Rin looked at him like he was stupid, “Have you been spending too much time on stage? Possibly near large speakers?”

“Yes?” Sousuke said, because he was in fact, a little stupid when it came to dealing with Rin. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Because if you aren’t newly hardly of hearing, I can’t see any other good reason you’d force me to repeat something so painful,” Rin said, slapping Sousuke’s hand away and blinking rapidly. “Jerk.”

Sousuke wavered under the threat of potential Rin tears, opening and closing his hand around the sudden lack of Rin’s warmth.

“I’m not the jerk here,” Sousuke said, gazing up at the starlit sky to avoid making direct eye contact. “Not when you were the one who walked out on me.”

“You can’t be serious!’” Rin shouted, kicking Sousuke’s tires in frustration. “You don’t know--”

“I’m sorry? I can’t be serious?!” Sousuke’s temper flared, staining his cheeks an angry, splotchy pink. “No, you CAN’T be serious!” He took two steps forward, careening dangerously into Rin’s orbit. “You can’t just show up in the middle of the night, out of the blue, and say this sort of shit to me--”

Rin opened his mouth to protest, but Sousuke slammed his hands down on either side of Rin’s head, pinning him in pace against truck. Sousuke looked at Rin’s lips, remembering the last time they were this close, when Rin was crying against his swollen, busted shoulder and whispering “ _I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t_ ,” over and over again until Sousuke couldn’t stand to hear another sobbed word and kissed him until they were both all cried out.

He hadn’t know it at the time, but that kiss had been the last.

“You can’t do this to me,” Sousuke whispered, “Not when you were the one who broke my heart.”

“Sousuke,” Rin said, voice suddenly gone deadly serious, “I’m not sure what you think happened back then--”

“I know what happened,” Sousuke pressed on, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, fueled by frustration and sorrow and confusion. “My shoulder crapped out and you couldn’t handle it. So you crapped out on me. On us.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Rin said angrily, wiping his fingers beneath his eyes. “There’s no way you can really believe that.”

Sousuke steeled himself, clung to the memory of how much it had hurt when Rin had said, “ _I’m sorry. I can’t be here. I have to go.”_

“I more than just believe it. I made a career out of it.”

Rin shook his head and said, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sousuke pushed away from Rin with a bitter laugh, walking over to yank open the door to his truck. “Get in.”

“What? No!” Rin spluttered, his eyes still shining with tears. “Why would I--”

“Have you actually listened to any of my music, Rin?” Sousuke put his keys in the ignition, turned them two clicks to the right until the console lights came on, the AC whirring with warm, stale air.

“I didn’t even know you had songs until yesterday,” Rin said, arms crossed against his chest and his mouth set in a downward line of upset curiosity. “And let’s just say I haven't really been in the mood to hear what country’s golden boy had to sing about.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should,” Sousuke said over his shoulder, nervous fingers fumbling to slide the AUX cord into the seemingly tiny hole at the bottom of his iPhone. The screen lit, ready and waiting for Sousuke’s command. Sousuke shuddered and closed his eyes, not entirely prepared for what he was about to do. “Maybe you should hear what this golden boy has to sing about.”

“Why?”

Sousuke met Rin’s questioning, wary gaze in the rearview mirror. He shrugged and offered a wry smile that didn’t do a single ounce of justice to the anxious, panicky way he really felt.

“Because I can’t think of a better way to make you understand how wrong you are about me. About us.”

Rin’s eyes narrowed dangerously and for half a second, watching Rin’s expression wage war between curiosity and wounded rage, Sousuke thought he might refuse.

“Fine,” Rin said, abruptly turning his back on Sousuke and marching to the other side of the truck. Sousuke tried to swallow around the lump in his throat as he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the volume up, leaving his thumb hovering over ‘play,’ until Rin jerked the passenger door open and grumbled, “But this had better be good.”

“I don’t know about good,” Sousuke said, staring at the empty parking lot, “But it’ll be what’s true, at least to me.”

He could feel the weight of Rin’s gaze on his face, the silence between them as thick and heavy as the humidity of late June.

“Alright,” Rin finally said, “I’ll listen.”

Sousuke closed his eyes and let his thumb fall, his heart stuttering as the first guitar notes poured from the speakers. He kept his eyes shut as his own voice began to fill the void between them, memories and feelings dressed up as pretty country-pop lyrics. Before the first chorus had even finished, Sousuke knew this was the third most excruciating thing he’d ever done, right after quitting swimming and watching Rin walk out the door.

He wasn’t sure he could sit in his truck, next to the love of his life, and listen to himself sing sad, sad, songs about how that very love had gone and left him high and dry. He wasn’t sure he could endure the way Rin stayed entirely silent, entirely still, listening to country star Sousuke bare his soul:

_“Like cherry blossoms in spring, you were gorgeous and then gone with the wind, leaving me flat on my back, looking at the sky, still waiting, waiting, baby, for you to fall for me.”_

But then the first song finished, fading away with a sentimental twang, and Sousuke found that he had survived. He took a breath as the next one started, curling his hands around the steering wheel and squeezing with all his might, his stomach still churning as he risked looking at Rin’s stunned, expressionless face.

Sousuke wondered what Rin was thinking, wondered if he was listening to Sousuke sing and remembering that night they’d stood on the edge of the pool, arguing about something meaningless until their throats were raw argued, until Rin’s eyes flashed like lightning and he’d pushed Sousuke into the water. When Sousuke had come up for air, Rin had laughed and laughed about how stupid they both were before tumbling in after Sousuke and apologizing with his lips pressed to Sousuke’s wet mouth. Sousuke wondered if Rin remembered kisses that tasted like love and chlorine.

_“Summer heat ain’t got nothin’ on that look in your eyes. If I’m ice, you’re fire, so dive into me, honey, and we’ll make some steam tonight.”_

Rin’s cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, but he gave nothing more than that away as Sousuke snuck a thousand not-very-clandestine glances with every song that played, each one revealing another painfully romantic and aching part of Sousuke’s soul.

There was, _“Love circles like a shark and my heart bleeds, cuz you sank your teeth into me.”_

And, _“Try to sleep, try to drink, gettin’ lost in all these places where you aren’t, but your eyes are in the sunset, your laugh’s on the wind, chasin’ me everywhere I go, and, baby, I ain’t sure if I can ever forget.”_

Worst of all--the one that made Sousuke’s skin crawl with a shameful sort of desperation and his eyes prickle--was the one the song that gave it all away, a pathetic confessional sung in his own smoke and whiskey voice.

_“You left and now I’m color-blind, missing red that’s gone where I can’t reach. Life’s black and white, my heart’s a broke down truck on the side of a dirt road that ain’t seen water ‘cept the tears that I cry because I’d do anything, do it all, just to bring the crimson back.”_

Sousuke rubbed his face between his hands, pressed his fingers against his eyelids to keep from making an even bigger fool of himself. It was horrible, yet strangely freeing, to be rendered entirely vulnerable, to have no more secrets to tell. Sousuke shook his head to steady himself and pulled his hands away, turning to Rin, ready to face the music.

In the half-lit cab of his truck, Rin looked at him with damp, wide eyes and red, red lips. Sousuke didn’t know what the hell was going to happen, how they were ever going to find their way out of this mess, didn’t know a damned thing for certain beyond the undeniable, never forgotten love that curled hot and low in his chest.

“Sousuke,” Rin exhaled, shuddering like he’d been holding his breath. “Are all of these songs about us? Did you really write all of these songs about me?”

Sousuke could hear the return of tears beneath Rin’s question, a telltale warble that brought back the ache to make it all better. Even after all this time, he still wanted to soothe Rin’s every hurt, even when he was beyond exhausted and confused. Sousuke dug his fingers into his thighs to keep them from reaching out and settled for watching the play of Rin’s reflection in the passenger side window. He wondered what Rin had taken from all the lyrics he’d inspired, wondered what he’d felt as heard Sousuke’s regrets and dearly held wishes, all set to a catchy country-pop tune. There was a part of him that still couldn’t believe that this was really happening, that he was really sitting in his truck with Rin, turning fifty shades of red and listening to his heartsongs.

“Not just about you,” Sousuke said quietly, turning off the radio, sick of hearing the pleading, lovesick sound of his own voice. “For you.”

Rin shifted in his seat, like a shiver had run up his spine and curled around the anxious hunch of his shoulders. “For me?”

Sousuke rested his forehead on the steering wheel and stared at Rin’s throat, sighed, and finally told the confessed the one thing he’d never been man enough to admit to anyone, not even to himself, because it had been the obvious, ridiculous truth all along.

“Yeah. I think a part of me always hoped somehow you’d hear them and understand how much I loved you.” Sousuke closed his eyes and took a breath. “...I hoped somehow my songs would make you want to come back. Stupid, I know, but--”

A hand cupped his cheek, the touch so startling that Sousuke forgot everything he was trying to say, his eyes opening wide to the unexpected, utterly devastating sight of Rin only inches away.

Sousuke swallowed and tried not to spontaneously combust.

“Shut-up,” Rin said, even though Sousuke hadn’t managed to say another word, lost in the warmth of Rin’s touch. He wanted to ask what was going on (or beg Rin never to stop) but Rin’s eyes were wet but his expression was hardened, set in Matsuoka stubbornness. “Just...shut-up.”

Sousuke stayed silent, rendered defenseless the thumb that dragged down his face and caressed the tender, vulnerable spot beneath his jaw. Sousuke held himself perfectly still and waited. He waited as Rin came closer and closer, endured his thundering heart and the anxious, hot churning in his stomach until Rin’s lips were pressed against the corner of Sousuke’s yearning, yielding mouth.

“I don’t understand,” Sousuke said, breathing each word over Rin’s flushed, warm skin.

“I’m still mad at you,” Rin murmured, his eyelashes fluttering against Sousuke’s cheek. “But I don’t want to fight any more tonight. Not after all that.”

It was risky, Sousuke knew, to turn his face into the cradle of Rin’s palm, to give himself up to Rin’s desperate, messy kiss when nothing between them was really resolved, when Rin was still angry and Sousuke was still confused, still frustrated, still hurt that Rin could seemingly misunderstand him so profoundly...but Rin was so near and if Sousuke closed his eyes and breathed in deep, he could remember the scent of chlorine and cherry blossoms and the easy sweetness of Rin’s kiss.

“Not sure this is going to help,” Sousuke said, sliding his fingers into red hair that had inspired countless songs, stroking it away from Rin’s forehead so he could look at him properly and try to figure out what Rin was thinking.

“It can’t hurt.”

The kiss Rin pressed into his mouth was wild and daring, hot with unmistakable, undeniable desire. Sousuke curved his hand around the base of Rin’s neck and dragged him in closer, his lips already open and gasping, making room for the tease of Rin’s tongue. The way he kissed was familiar and strange all at once, and Sousuke counted himself as a damned fool for thinking that nothing would have changed.

In the two years since the goodbyes that never were never actually said, Sousuke had lived with the Rin of hazy memories and too sad songs, but in the here and now, this Rin was maybe a different Rin, a Rin who was new and unknown.

A Rin who thought that Sousuke had left him and who was still angry and who had heard all his songs and said nothing at all.  

As if sensing his hesitancy, Rin doubled down on the kiss; sucking on Sousuke’s bottom lip and moaning. It was the one-two punch that Sousuke had never been able to resist. He’d never been very good at saying no to any of Rin’s crazy, reckless wishes.  

Giving up on thinking, at least until the morning, Sousuke tugged on Rin’s hair, pulled him to the side so he could bite his throat and whisper in his ear:

“It already does.”  

“Shhh,” Rin said, putting on hand over Sousuke’s thundering heart and the other on the radio dial, the sound of Sousuke’s voice filling the truck once more. Rin kissed the bridge of his nose, brushed his lips right between Sousuke’s eyes and murmured, “It’s your damned fault, you know.”

“You kissed me first,” Sousuke pointed out, pushing his seat back as far as it could go, wondering how the hell they were both going to fit in a cramped space that was meant for driving and not for loving.

With a shadowed smile, Rin climbed into his lap and turned the radio up.  “Yeah, but you serenaded me last.”

Sousuke opened a mouth stunned stupid without knowing what he really wanted to ask (do you like my songs? did you understand everything I couldn’t say? do you know how badly you broke my heart?) but before he could speak, Rin was stealing every unspoken word with lips that told Sousuke only one thing.

Rin was very, very turned on.

Sousuke didn’t know if his song made Rin happy or sad or madder than he already was, but he knew as surely as he knew that the sky was blue and summertime was sweet that the sound of his voice singing Rin’s praises made Rin hard.

Sousuke wrapped his arm around Rin’s waist and dragged him down, wanting to feel the proof that Rin was anything but indifferent, and let Rin take him for a ride, pinned beneath the spread of his muscles thighs and the curl of his tongue. Sousuke arched up into the slow, dirty grind of Rin’s hips, knees knocking into the driver’s side door and the steering wheel each time Rin caught him off guard, moaning into Sousuke’s mouth like he was dying for it.

The windows fogged as Rin turned Sousuke’s lips a slick, swollen red to match his own, the cramped space of the truck’s cab filled with the twang of Sousuke’s bittersweet memories and their mingled, rasping breaths. Rin kissed him and kissed him and kissed, as if he was terrified of what Sousuke might do with his mouth should it be granted freedom once more. Sousuke surrendered, too tired and too desperate and too undone to worry about all the talking they weren’t doing while Rin was making his backcountry boy dreams come true.

It was a mistake, perhaps, to give into lust when what they needed was logic, but when Rin dropped his hand into Sousuke’s lap and squeezed, Sousuke thought that this, too, was a language all of it’s own.

Sousuke slipped his hands beneath Rin’s shirt to explore a chest that was even better than his own and wished it was broad daylight so he could see that gold medal body bathed in sunshine. Rin muffled sighs mingled with Sousuke’s throaty, rough moan as he remembered what it once had been like to touch Rin like this, raking his nails over a taut stomach that trembled beneath the splay of his palm and tried to learn him anew. Sousuke pinched Rin’s nipple, twisted it between his finger and thumb, and hoped that Rin still liked it a little rough. He got his answer in the scrape of teeth over his bottom lip, a clear demand for more that had Sousuke reaching for the other nipple and squeezing a handful of Rin’s ass.

The song changed just as Rin reached for his belt, somehow finding the space between bodies that clung together, rocking and rolling in search of just a little more friction to make it feel good. Sousuke blocked out the sound of his voice pleading for just one more “crimson dawn after a night of regret,” focusing every last nerve ending on the feeling of Rin’s fingertips sliding beneath his boxers and touching his cock. Rin licked the curve of his throat, sunk his teeth into the hollow where neck met shoulder and dragged his thumb over the tip.

Sousuke almost hit his head on the roof of the car, his hips flying off the seat until Rin rolled his hips down, pinning him in place. Sousuke growled and shifted, tugging on Rin’s belt-loops and trying to get him to move, wanting just enough room to arch up to Rin’s teasing, barely there, never enough touch. Rin’s gaze was heavy and piercing, unrelenting as Sousuke watched him unzip his own pants,  lifting up just enough to let Sousuke see the hard curve of his cock as he pulled it free. The song whined for more and so did Sousuke, pleading with a kiss and whisper, but Rin was as stubborn as he’d always been even in Sousuke’s fondest dreams, so he took what he could and slipped his hand under Rin’s pants, staking out five greedy claims.

Rin bit Sousuke’s begging lips, laid him bare with kisses that felt like a punishment and a promise, and finally, finally, curled his hand around both of their cocks and stroked. Sousuke struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to memorize the play of shadow and flush on Rin’s cheeks as he rolled his hips into the perfect, tight squeeze of Rin’s fist and pulled Rin in close enough to taste the sweat that beaded beneath his jaw. His heart was beating so hard, hammering in his ears and drowning that he almost missed the way Rin turned the music up even louder, so loud the speakers shook and the sound reverberated from Sousuke’s head to his toes.

Sousuke kissed Rin’s wet, stung mouth and wondered what it meant that Rin wanted to drown them both in the echoes of Sousuke’s songs as they moved together in a, desperate tangle. He wondered what it meant that Rin moaned every time Sousuke sung about blood red temptations and hitting the rock bottom of the swimming pool.

He wanted to turn the radio off, wanted to hear nothing but the rush of his pulse and the slick sounds of their bodies moving together, but Sousuke let Rin take what he wanted, let him have this wild moment in the cramped, half-lit cab of his truck while Rin stroked them both in time to the twang-thump of Sousuke’s guitar. If he’d had the breath left in his lungs or the capacity to curl his tongue around a word other than Rin, Sousuke would have said, “turn it down, let me hear you, let me hear only you for the rest of my life,” but there was nothing he could do but push up into the slick-rough circle of Rin’s hand and come with a shout that promptly lost to the noise.

Still shivering, still trying to climb off the seat and into Rin, Sousuke poured all his desire, all his misunderstood intentions into Rin’s kiss. Rin murmured encouragements, clung to him like he was afraid Sousuke was going to disappear as soon as this midnight assignation was over. The song ended, the playlist all played out, and the truck went suddenly, blissfully quiet. Rin looked at him then, his face beautiful in it’s debauched determination, his eyes wide with shock, as if the silence had reminded him where he really was, what he was really doing, and who he was doing it with.

Sousuke pressed his fingers into Rin’s skin, parted his lips and supposed that this was only a part of what he’d meant when he’d confessed that he wanted Rin to hear his lyrics and love him again, so when Rin shuddered and came all over another one of Sousuke’s countless black t-shirts, Sousuke could only hope that this was the beginning of a whole new verse. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading this, I am sorry it has been 9 months. There are excuses (I bought a house, life happened, etc.) but I am trying to get this finished now, now, now. 
> 
> This is just a little interlude to get me back on track, to get this story moving towards the final verse. I promise I won't wait another 9 months.

For several impossibly long beats, the truck cab was silent but for the anxious thundering of their hearts. Rin’s breath was warm against Sousuke’s neck, rushing over his skin and giving him goosebumps to match the quivering in his thighs. The something, anything he needed to say now was caught in somewhere in his chest, trapped beneath the weight of Rin’s body against his own. He knew they needed to talk, knew that this little tryst in the truck probably didn’t mean a damn thing, but it was hard to find the motivation to do the right thing when Rin was still sighing in pleasure and kissing his throat.

Sousuke swallowed down his disbelief, his doubt, his delirious joy that Rin Matsuoka had appeared out of nowhere, thrown a magazine at his head and kissed him, and tried to do the right thing.

“Um...so…”

Sousuke failed.

Rin’s laughter brushed across his cheek as his weight shifted, his knees pressing into Sousuke’s legs as they disentangled bit by bit, inch by inch. Rin’s cheeks were flush and lovely, illuminated by the glow of the radio and Sousuke knew even if nothing ever came from this moment, even if Rin walked out on him again, left him high and dry and addicted to the memory of his kiss, he’d still have an entire album’s worth of lyrics to write about the quiet beauty of Rin in the aftermath.

“Rin,” Sousuke murmured, leaning forward to maybe whisper just a few lines of his new favorite ditty, “Rin, you’re so--”

“Gross.”

Sousuke started. “What? No--”

“Yuck.” Rin waved his sticky hand two inches in front of Sousuke’s still stunned face. “I mean that was great and all but now I know why no one ever writes songs about what happens _after_ the truck nookie.”

All the poetry in Sousuke’s heart died a swift, unsavory death. He glanced down at the stain on his shirt.

“Ugh.”

“Right?!” Rin laughed again, pressing his sticky fingers to Sousuke’s ruined shirt and rested his forehead on Sousuke’s shoulder. “Cleaning up a mess is never as fun as making it.”

“That’s a pretty good line. Maybe you should write a song.” Sousuke teased, rubbing his nose against Rin’s cheek, falling into their old banter like it was nothing, like it was years ago and they were curled up in a tiny dorm room bed and not the cramped cab of an F-150. Like nothing had ever happened and they were still living the same dream.

“Oh, sure,” Rin snorted, his chest rumbling against the beating of Sousuke’s heart. “I’ll break the Billboard charts with my tune about the perils of jizz hands.”

“Definitely number one hit material.” Sousuke smiled and tried to coax Rin away from his shoulder, wanting to see his face, wanting to know what he was thinking. “Trust me. I would know.”

“I guess you would.” Rin’s lips moved against his throat, laughter fading into a sigh. Their tenuous moment of sweetness dissolved as Rin shifted out of his lap and away from Sousuke’s lonely arms. “Since it seems you’ve made a whole damned career out of singing about broken hearts,” Rin muttered, wearily climbing into the passenger seat. “Even it not a word of it was true.”

Their temporary, orgasm-induce truce turned into a long, awkward silence. Much like the perils of jizz-hands, Sousuke didn’t need to question why there weren’t more songs about the dangers of hooking-up with your ex after they accosted you in a parking lot and accused you of being the one who did all the leaving and heartbreaking when you’d always believed you were the jilted party.

_(Slowly but surely, Sousuke was beginning to think that this thing with Rin was too damned complicated even for country music)._

“It was true to me.” Sousuke put his hands on the steering wheel just have to something to fill the space that Rin had left. He licked his still kiss-bitten lips and looked out the window, his voice thick with remembered hurt. “What else was I supposed to think when you disappeared at the moment I needed you the most?”

“That’s not what---” Rin broke off with an exasperated huff, thumping his head against the back of the seat. “OK. OK. This is pointless.” Rin closed his eyes and took a breath. “I guess this is the moment when I say _we need to talk_.”

“I guess so.” Sousuke’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, post-show and post-coital exhaustion warring with the terror of not knowing what was going to happen next.

_Would he lose Rin all over again? Would he find out everything he’d believed was a lie? Or maybe discover  a reality somewhere halfway in-between what he remembered and what Rin revealed? Would he learn things about their past that his poor heart just wouldn’t be able understand?_

“Do you have somewhere we can go?” Rin opened his eyes and stared down at his hands. “I’d prefer not to take this stroll down some-of-my-worst-memories lane while sitting in a truck and covered in come.”

Sousuke’s laugh was tired, but warm. “Yeah, I’ve a got a room in town.”

“Well, then, giddyup, cowboy,” Rin said, eyes slipping shut once more, “and take me home.”

  
Sousuke's skin prickled with anticipation, with worry, as he turned the key in the ignition and drove them onward into the great unknown.


	7. Chapter 7

“Well, here we are.” Sousuke set down his guitar and flicked on the lights, illuminating the last of the many non-descript hotel rooms he’d called home while on tour.  "Home for the night"

“Nice,” Rin said, giving the room a quick once over as he slipped off his shoes and headed straight for the bathroom sink. “Guess being famous has its perks.” 

There was nothing different about this room than the twenty that had preceded it, but as he watched Rin shuffle across the tasteful yet bland carpet to wash his hands, Sousuke had to agree that, yeah, maybe this room, on this night, was a cut above the rest. 

“It has it’s moments,” Sousuke murmured, drinking in the sight of Rin walking towards him until Rin’s eyebrows began to arch up his forehead and Sousuke remembered that Rin had come here to talk, not to be stared at by a creeper in a crusty shirt. “Umm,” Sousuke cleared his throat and fled, immediately becoming very occupied by the task of finding the last of his clean clothes at the bottom of his duffle bag. “Aren’t you a little bit famous yourself now?”

“Oh, yeah, you know it.” Rin laughed. “I’m the new hotness to the like 12 people who follow swimming.” 

“I’ll bet,” Sousuke said, the wistfulness of his voice muffled by the shirt he carefully, carefully pulled over his head. He could feel the weight of Rin’s gaze on his back, could almost feel the sweep of his eyes up the curve of his spine to the faint, raised white scar on his shoulder--an X to permanently mark the spot that had changed everything. “Just wait until the Olympics,” Sousuke murmured, fingers clenching around the last of his clean t-shirts as he turned around to face Rin, to face everything he’d been running from for so long. “Then everyone will know your name.” 

“Only if I win.” Rin’s eyes never left Sousuke’s shoulder, his expressed guarded and maybe a little bit sad. 

“You will.” Sousuke promised, smiling as gently as he knew how. 

Rin rolled his eyes, taking all of Sousuke’s sincerity for granted. “Oh yeah? You some kind of psychic now--”

“No.” Sousuke cut him off, pulling the shirt over his shaking head and he tried his damnedest to keep his cool, keep it all casual and breezy . “I’ve just always known you were special.” Sousuke shrugged, the taste of his confession bittersweet on his tongue. “Even back then...I knew. You shined so bright. Like sunshine after a hundred days of rain.”

“Jesus,” Rin sighed, burying his face in his hands and sinking down onto the bed. “If you felt that way, then why the hell did you disappear on me?” His voice shook with disbelief. “What the hell happened to us?”  

Sousuke leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, not trusting himself to be within touching distance when it sounded like Rin was on the verge of tears. His throat was dry, desperate for a shot of whiskey to give him courage. 

“We were happy,” Sousuke said, half-question, half-affirmation. “Maybe even in love.” Between the white-knuckled cradle of his hands, Rin’s head nodded up and down, up and down; a tiny, soothing comfort for Sousuke’s weary soul. At least he hadn’t been alone in thinking they’d had something good. Something real. “And then my shoulder got busted. And we weren’t so happy any more.” 

“I remember that much,” Rin murmured, peering at him through the spread of his fingertips on his forehead. “I remember loving you so much it hurt.” Sousuke bit his lip and stared at the ceiling, willing away the tears that prickled in the corners of his eyes. “What I don’t remember  is ever, ever leaving you.” 

“You did leave.” Sousuke slid down the wall, knees buckling from exhaustion, no longer capable of holding him up and keeping him strong. “After the doctor said I would never swim competitively again and the team let me go,” Sousuke swallowed, his hand crawling up to a shoulder that still ached.  “You could barely look at me, could barely stand to be in the same room--”

“You flinched every time I touched you. Every time I left for practice, your face--” Rin’s gaze snapped to Sousuke’s shoulder. “You looked devastated every single time. You never said a damned word, never told me it hurt you or that it made you sad.” Rin sighed and shook his head. “You were like this little lockbox of pain and stoicism and I didn’t know what to do for you, not when it was all going wrong for you at the exact moment it was all going right for me. You said it was fine, you said it was OK, but, Sousuke, it was always there, written all over you--” Rin paused, swallowed and held his gaze. “And I didn’t want to be the one who kept breaking your heart over and over again.”

Sousuke let Rin’s words sink in, let all the remembered hurt and worry and bitterness born of broken dreams wash over him. He remembered how it felt to know his old teammates were practicing without him, while he suffered through the agony of the surgery that ended his career. He remembered practicing a smile in the mirror so he could do his best to convince Rin that it was okay that he was still swimming, still winning, still blowing the world away with his talent, even when Sousuke had been permanently sidelined.  

And Sousuke knew for sure that he was as bad of an actor as he was good of a singer and Rin hadn’t been fooled for a single second. 

“I didn’t want you to feel bad about--”

“Of course I felt bad, you idiot!” Rin shouted, his cheeks flushing that same pretty pink as they had hours ago in the parking lot when he was angry and throwing magazines and accusations at Sousuke’s head. “You were hurt and shutting me out and I was confused and didn’t know what to do---”

“So you broke up with me?” Sousuke shouted right back, frustration and maybe a touch of desire sparking in his belly at the sight of Rin so suddenly worked up, as if he still believed he was the only one with the right to be the wounded party. 

Rin’s gaze narrowed dangerously. Sousuke’s heart beat a little bit faster, everything in him going a little bit harder.

“For the last time, I did not break up with you.” 

Sousuke shot to his feet, shoulder tingling as he threw his arms out wide in frustration. “You damned well did! You packed up a bag, looked me in the eye and said,  _ I can’t do this, I can’t do this,  _ over and over again and then you left!”

“Did you break your brain and your shoulder?!” Rin’s pretty pink cheeks turned a splotchy red. “I was leaving for a three week training camp in Australia! Not walking out on you!” 

Sousuke’s mouth dropped open. “What camp?” 

“The one we were both invited to the day that your shoulder gave out. I remember thinking--how the hell can this be happening right now, when we’re both on the verge of something great?” Sousuke stared blankly. Rin shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus, you don’t remember any of that, do you?” 

“Hey, give me a break. I was a little preoccupied at the time.” Sousuke said, struggling to stay upright when everything he’d thought he’d known about Rin, about them, had just changed. It was like finding out he’d been singing the wrong lyrics to his favorite song. Sousuke ran a hand over his face, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been in his whole life. “So why’d you say--”

“I can’t do this?” Rin interjected, getting up from the bed and coming one step closer. Sousuke nodded and watched as Rin’s hand floated up to rest on the shoulder that had caused them both so much pain. “I felt like the world’s biggest jerk, going off to pursue my dreams when yours was over. I was telling myself,  _ Rin, you can’t do this, you can’t go, you can’t be this selfish-- _ ” 

“That’s not self--

Rin shushed him, sliding his hand down to rest over Sousuke’s pounding heart. “And I was standing there, waiting for you to say something, to say anything…. But you never said a word, just looked at me like you were waiting for me to go, like you couldn’t stand another second of listening to me worry about what I needed, what I wanted---”

“I thought you were breaking my heart,” Sousuke whispered, his throat as dry as his eyes were wet. “I couldn’t stand to watch you go.”

Rin’s dug his fingers into Sousuke’s chest, shaking his head again and again. “And the whole time I was in Australia, I thought--he just needs some space and some time, that’s why he’s not answering your calls.” Rin’s voice hiccuped. “I thought to myself--you can make it up to him when you get home. Figure out a new dream together...find a way to make it all okay.” 

“Rin.” 

The way Rin looked at him broke his heart all over again. Sousuke tasted tears on the tip of a tongue that didn’t know what to say. 

“And then I when I finally came home, you’d vanished. No bags, no books, no goggles, no Sousuke.” Rin’s hand dropped from his chest, dangling in the space between them. “No facebook, no phone number, no forwarding address. Not a word.” 

“I didn’t know,” Sousuke struggled to explain, “I didn’t know what to do...without swimming, without you--”

“You didn’t lose me.” 

“I know. I know that now.” Sousuke said in a rush, hating the wetness on Rin’s cheeks, sick with the feeling of having gotten it all so, so wrong. “But then, I thought I had. I thought I’d lost everything that had ever mattered and it was like there wasn’t even a  _ me _ any more…”

“So you threw away your phone, deleted all your social media and ran away to become a country music star?” Sousuke looked at the floor, his entire body flush with regret and recrimination. Two fingers touched the edge of his jaw, tipping it up and forcing him to meet Rin’s gaze. His eyes were so bright it hurt. “God, you’re such a drama king! Who even does that?”

Sousuke dropped to his knees, burying his flushed face against Rin’s stomach. “I’d give it all back, give up all the fame and fortune if I could go back and do it all over again.”  

“And once more with the dramatics.” Rin’s hands rested gently on his shaking shoulders. Sousuke looked up. Rin’s smile was weary but somehow, impossibly, still welcoming. “To think I never would have found you again if it weren’t for that interview.” Sousuke shuddered, preferring not to think of that at all. “We made a real mess of it, didn’t we, Sousuke?” 

“We did.” 

“Hey, don’t look so sad,” Rin said, even though he was the one still crying. “At least now you know I didn’t dump you and I know you weren’t  _ trying _ to be the biggest dick on the planet.” Sousuke rubbed his cheek against Rin’s shirt. “And I figure tonight alone has probably given you enough material for like six depressing new songs.” 

Despite himself, Sousuke laughed. “Oh, I’ll get an entire album out of it at least.” 

“I can just hear it now,” Rin said, “ _My old lover ain’t done me wrong like I thought he did and now we’ve both got them cowboy blues_.” 

“Or something like that,” Sousuke said, hugging Rin close. “But I wish they could be happier songs, somehow.”

“Maybe...maybe they could be.” Rin slipped down slowly, coming to his knees and wrapping his arms around Sousuke’s shoulders. Sousuke held his breath, unable to believe that any of this was really happening. Rin brought their foreheads together and sighed. “It’s been a long time and all this crazy shit’s happened between and now you’re a music star and I’m an Olympian...but…”

“But?” Sousuke whispered, falling all over again with each slow sweep of Rin’s eyelashes against his skin. 

“I’d kind of like to hear our love song.”

“Me too,” Sousuke said, his heart already beating in time with all the songs he’d always wanted to write for Rin, for them. “Me too.” 

Rin smiled through a fresh wave of tears. “I think maybe this time it could be good.” 

  
Sousuke pulled Rin close, feeling the future spool out before him in lyrics and verse as he kissed Rin’s cheeks and the salty corners of his eyes, promising over and over again with every brush of his lips: “A number one hit for sure.” 


End file.
